


The Assets

by JJJJ12



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Awesome Darcy Lewis, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes has a crush, Bucky Barnes is a voyeur, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Darcy shows Bucky her tits in the name of science, Eventual Smut, Exhibitionism, F/M, Horny Bucky Barnes, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sexual Tension, Thanos Dies (Marvel), Theft of baked goods, Voyeurism, which is good since Darcy is an exhibitionist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29870604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJJJ12/pseuds/JJJJ12
Summary: Bucky Barnes may no longer be brainwashed, but that doesn't mean he's back to being himself. While his best bud Steve thinks therapy is the answer, Darcy Lewis doesn’t agree.Sure, she only just finished her doctorate in astrophysics, and sure, she knows nothing about brainwashed super soldier-assassins, but she knows men, and men need sex.(or so all her exes seemed to claim)It’s her idea to show her tits to Bucky, hypothesizing that it will remind him of his Casanova days.She doesn’t expect, however, that the forever-quiet Sergeant will keep showing up at her door in the middle of the night and silently pleading with longing blue eyes to see them again.Becoming a modern peepshow for the centenarian was not a part of her plan.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis
Comments: 49
Kudos: 313





	1. the hypothesis

**Author's Note:**

> this story takes place about a month and a half after Infinity War... except Thanos was defeated after the Avengers successfully removed the mind stone from Vision, destroyed it, and Thor went for the head. so no one dies. yay!!!
> 
> except i guess the asgardians and Gamora
> 
> rip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things to share:
> 
> 1 – life has been busy and hectic, which I’m sure is the same for many of you. I will write more Reylo in due time, so no worries there.
> 
> 2 – The MCU was my first fan love, and with WandaVision out, I’ve been rewatching the movies which got me in the mood to write this short story. If you’re unfamiliar with the pairing, since Bucky Barnes (the Winter Soldier) has no love interest in movie canon, lots of fans pair him with Darcy Lewis, Jane’s intern from the Thor movies (who has reappeared in WandaVision!). With Darcy back in discussion, and Bucky revving up for his own Disney+ show in a couple of weeks, I couldn’t resist. 
> 
> Besides, I have a thing for sad emo boys who need a hug. I mean, I know most of you do too.
> 
> 3 – this story will likely be three parts, but given my inability to write briefly, it could be longer. It’ll end up being mostly porn.
> 
> PS there are NO spoilers for WandaVision so let’s keep it that way!

They had done it. Peace on Earth was restored. Other planets were suffering from the destruction Thanos brought, but with the Mad Titan ultimately failing his master plan, Earth was mostly spared. New York needed to be cleaned up again, Wakanda had suffered terrible losses, and the knowledge that more genocidal aliens were out there was sure to keep most people awake at night.

But even if Thanos and his minions were dead, and the infinity stones were destroyed, the universe’s heroes still had plenty of work to do. The Avengers’ intergalactic allies had already returned to the stars, ready to fix and mend what Thanos had broken. The Earth-dwellers helped clean-up, bury the dead, and returned to New York, where they resettled in the Avengers Compound.

For Bucky Barnes, returning with the team to the States was an easy choice. Wakanda was a rebirth for him—both by name and by mind—but it was never home. He was welcomed there, he was in cryostasis there, but after brilliant Shuri cured his brainwashing, he needed to go home.

To New York.

To where it all began.

“ _It won’t be so bad_ ,” Sam had promised, that annoying grin on his lips despite the ash and mud caked along his cheeks. “ _The rooms are nice. Mattresses are like little clouds. Although I’m sure anything would be an upgrade from seventy years of Hydra bullshit_.”

Bucky had his reservations. The people in Wakanda had grown to care for him, although many still viewed him with trepidation at best and legitimate fear at worse. He didn’t want to be feared wherever he went.

He didn’t want to be hated anymore.

“ _And if you’re worried about Stark_ ,” Sam had added, as their quinjet left Wakanda, “ _he’ll be fine. You fought with us. You’re fixed. Not to mention, he’s in space and Rhodey said it was fine so…_ ”

“ _What I said was we just killed a fuck ton of aliens, Tony is in space with a wizard, and I could use a hot shower and a grilled cheese sandwich. Somehow, I don’t think Terminator over here will be Tony’s top priority_ ,” Rhodey had piped in, squeezed between an exhausted looking Dr. Banner, and Wanda, who couldn’t keep her hands off of a now Mind Stone-less Vision.

Bucky never had much to contribute, so he hadn’t. He had made eye contact with Steve before closing his own eyes.

The next time, he opened them, he was in New York, staring at a behemoth of a silver building. Not the concrete monstrosities of his time… abroad, but the bunker-like atmosphere was sort of comforting.

Eventually, someone guided him to one of the empty rooms, placed at the end of the hallway, his only neighbor being Sam and the emergency stairwell. He wondered if the placement was strategic since no one really knew who he was anymore.

He didn’t let his self-loathing get the best of him.

Instead, he dropped to the bed and shut his eyes, ready for his first night in the new home.

For the first time in a long time, he slept well.

He even missed the little raccoon fuck, too.

Darcy Lewis had been two weeks away from finishing the fifth year of her doctorate in Astrophysics when aliens invaded New York— _again_ —and went ballistic in Wakanda. How many times were aliens going to fuck up her life? It was her time in London with the dark elves that made her realize how important Jane and Dr. Selvig’s work was. It was exactly what sent her back to Culver when she finished her undergraduate degree, recommendation letters from two of the most acclaimed scientists in the world.

Oh, and Thor. He _may_ have visited the admissions office as a favor to her.

Anyways—back to the story. The aliens came, they attacked, blah blah blah. Seemingly the norm for most of her life since she finished high school way back when. The attack and pending global unease caused her exams to be cancelled—a relief for her—and suddenly, she was Dr. Darcy Lewis, thanks to her big brain and an accelerated five-year program.

Then came the call from Jane, not even a few weeks later. She was already working in upstate New York at the Avengers compound, and now that Darcy had that fancy degree, Jane was inviting her to join her.

It meant not only a job, but _housing_.

She was going to _live_ with the Avengers.

The saviors of the universe.

(Although, in her defense, she had done plenty to help the universe in New Mexico and London, right?)

By the time she was settled in her _free_ apartment, she figured there wasn’t anything that could surprise her. As it was, she was already friends with a _literal_ god and one of her mentors had gone cuckoo for cocoa puffs when said god’s brother zapped his brain.

Evidently, she was being naïve.

It only took a _week_ for her to walk in on Jane comforting a downcast Thor with more than just a hug and a backrub before he returned to space. She was happy they were back together— _really_ —but there were things she did _not_ need to see.

In week two, a bunch of wizards with funny hand dancing joined to celebrate Tony’s birthday.

In week three, a mystery person began to steal her completed baked goods from the communal kitchen. What did a girl have to do to keep a cupcake or two for herself when she went back to work?

In week four, a literal spaceship landed out front, and a talking raccoon hit on her.

But it was week five when she had her first big surprise. It was the early evening after a rather exhausting shift, so like she always did, she made her way to the kitchen to find something easy to throw together for dinner. It was there she found Steve Rogers— _swoon_ —and…

The Winter Soldier? The Asset? Sergeant Barnes? Bucky?

What the fuck was she supposed to call him? Instruction on the matter would have been nice. It wasn’t like Tony sent out memos about anything besides reminding Vision to use doors.

Regardless of his name, she hated how _attractive_ he looked. His hair had been chopped short, and with a clean-shaven face and a fucking sweatshirt from probably H&M, he looked like a normal guy. He looked like the pictures she saw in her history textbooks back in school.

Well, minus the metal hand peeking out of his sleeve.

It really wasn’t fair to have two gorgeous men in such a confined area.

Darcy meant to open the fridge, but instead, she stared.

Oh, and promptly blurted out, “Stouffer's?”

Both Steve and… emo best friend dropped their forks, individual trays of lasagna abandoned.

“I beg your pardon, Darcy—that would be…?” Steve asked.

She cleared her throat and waved to the trays of lasagna. “It’s a brand of food. Frozen meals, usually.”

Steve chuckled and nudged other guy, hoping he’d respond. When other guy simply sent him a dirty look, Steve cleared his throat and looked back to Darcy. “Frozen food. Still getting used to that. Although Bucky has a thing for… darn it, what are those called? They’re little nugget things with pizza fillings. Sam introduced us.”

Darcy grinned and looked at _Bucky_. Finally, a name. “Yeah? You a fan of pizza rolls?”

He didn’t respond. He stared at her, with big, blue eyes, and a locked jaw, before returning to stuffing his face with forkfuls of lasagna.

“I guess not.” She looked back to Steve. “Your food then?”

“The kid from Queens’ Aunt brought it. Four whole trays. Thor beat us to it so we grabbed what was left.”

She eyed the half empty trays. Leave it to a super-soldier and a trained assassin to consume the entire casserole.

“Thor can certainly eat.” She grabbed a cup of noodles from the pantry and flipped on the electric kettle. As the water boiled, she leaned against the counter, eyes shifting between a polite but hungry Steve and Bucky, who hadn’t stopped eating since he began again. “But he claims he hasn’t been stealing my baked goods.”

Steve ate a forkful and nodded. “That chocolate cake you made last week was delicious.”

She smirked. She had a knack for baking. One of her _many_ talents.

“Well, when I bake, it’s for everyone, you know,” she explained, tearing the paper away from the top of the cup, “but now, whenever I finish a batch and leave it for like, ten minutes tops, everything’s gone.” When the water finished heating, she grabbed the kettle and poured an adequate amount into her cup. “Now, I know this place is filled with spies and heroes with super speed and what not, but I _really_ can’t imagine all of you manage to scarf down two-dozen cupcakes before I even get to properly decorate them!”

Steve frowned. “I’m sorry, Darcy. I don’t know anything about it except for someone usually beats me to it! When you sent out that email about the apple pie, I actually skipped training to grab some.” He paused, his smile fond. “Reminds me of my ma. But by the time I got to the kitchen, it was gone. Tin and all.”

Darcy grabbed a fork and sighed. “It’s like the pie on the windowsill and the dog eating it before it cools.” She took her cup and went towards the doors. “There’s a mutt on the loose and I’m going to catch him.”

When Steve laughed and wished her the best, she noticed Bucky was still staring at her. His piercing blue gaze made her stomach twist. Somehow, the dabs of marinara sauce on his chin didn’t make him look any less menacing.

Or hot.

With a wave, she strolled out, a deep sigh escaping her lips. Between her best friend and mentor dating a literal god, and her effectively living with some of the hottest people on the planet, how was she ever expected to date again?

The following week, everywhere Darcy went in the building, sans the research level and her living quarters, she could feel someone watching her. As she jogged on the treadmill, goosebumps rose on her arms. As she whipped up another batch of brownies—which were eventually stolen—she could practically _feel_ someone breathing down her neck. As she explored the library, looking for something to read in her leisure, she could sense someone watching her every movement.

If she weren’t in probably the safest building in the world—not to mention, arguably the least important person in said building—she would be scared.

But she wasn’t.

She threw herself into work, not letting anything but cute dog GIFs and the promise of Pop-Tarts to distract her.

That was, however, until Steve raced in, following Dr. Banner in stride. They were so deep in conversation that they either didn’t notice or simply didn’t care about her presence. Darcy had no complaints. She always liked having a front row seat to the show. As they talked, she worked at her computer, listening in.

“Bruce. Please. As a favor to me,” Steve pleaded. “He needs this and I don’t know who else to ask!”

With a sigh, Dr. Banner pulled his glasses off and rubbed at his face. “Steve, I’m not that kind of doctor. Tony put me through it all before. I’m not trained to deal with… with…”

“I know that,” Steve promised, “but there isn’t exactly a line of… therapists or whatever trained to deal with the trauma he’s been through. You… You know on some level what he’s endured, right?”

Dr. Banner frowned. “Yeah, I do. But I don’t know what to say, Steve. The brainwashing is gone. But I’m not sure what’s going to get him back to his old self.”

From behind her desk, Darcy let out a rather unladylike snort, her mind filling with something that was sure to break _anyone_ out of a personal slump. But as she clicked through the data on her computer, she realized it had gone quiet.

She looked over her computer monitor, meeting the stares of an exhausted Dr. Banner and an irritated Steve.

“What was that, Darcy?” Steve asked, his tone not the same level of playful politeness it usually was.

She swallowed, suddenly nervous. “No—nothing,” she stuttered. “I didn’t say anything.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Sure, sounded like you wanted to, Darcy.”

Darcy had never seen the Captain so serious. Evidently joking about his best bud was the number one way to break down his usually happy demeanor.

Well, he was already annoyed. She might as well add in her two cents.

“Well, forgive me for eavesdropping—although let the record show you two are talking at _my_ desk—but I feel like if you want Bucky to be like his old self, then introduce him to what he liked back in the old days. Which…” She gave Steve a _look_. “Based on the stories you shared, was taking ladies out on the town.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You’re suggesting he go on a date?”

She laughed. “No, I’m suggesting he gets _fucked_.”

Dr. Banner looked amused, and pointedly averted his gaze anywhere else in the lab. Steve simply stared at her, mouth agape. She wasn’t sure if it was the language or the implication that did him in, but she couldn’t deny how delicious it was to see him so aghast.

With neither of them speaking, she continued to ramble.

“Like… sex is great, ya know? Makes you feel human. Relaxes you. Maybe Buck just needs some skin on skin action. Might remind him of his Casanova days.” She cleared her throat and returned her focus to her computer, poignantly trying to forget that since Ian in London, over the span of five years, there had only been two lovers to bide her time. Sad, sad, lonely Darcy. “Anyways… don’t take credit for my idea, ok?”

She could hear Steve clear his throat. “Right. I’ll keep that suggestion in mind, but I don’t think Bucky would go for it—”

“Oh, he absolutely would,” she interrupted, back to her data input from her project that morning. “He’s a dude. I promise you, one roll in the hay would give you faster results than _years_ of therapy.”

“Darcy, I get it, I do, but Bucky was hurt and isn’t going to immediately trust someone, especially intimately enough to… to… make love,” Steve explained. Darcy didn’t need to look up to just _know_ his cheeks were likely bright red. “He needs to be eased into things before—”

“Fine,” she interrupted again, looking away from the boring numbers to meet his—yup, _bright_ red—face, “ease him in. Show him some tits or something.”

Dr. Banner was still standing there, a folder over his face to hide his laughter.

Steve glared. “You think showing my friend a pair of… breasts are just going to knock him out of his trance?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, but I think it’ll help a dude feel a lot more like himself.”

“Well, where do you suggests I acquire a pair of breasts?”

“Uh, I don’t know? The internet? See if Vision can give himself some? Have Stark make a prosthetic pair?” She returned to her data, shaking her head in irritation. “Hell, if it proves a point, I’ll take one for the team and show him mine.”

 _That_ got a squawk of laughter out of Dr. Banner. The noise, and Steve’s open mouth stare was the last straw for her. She stood up, dropped her lab coat, and quickly tied her hair into a ponytail.

“Alright,” she said, grabbing her badge and moving towards the doors, “let’s do this.”

“Do what?” Steve choked out, still beside a laughing Dr. Banner, not having moved an inch.

“I’m proving a point,” Darcy explained. “Besides, you wanted a doctor. And guess what Cap? I _am_ a doctor.”

When she disappeared between the main double doors of the research level, she could hear footsteps behind her. And as she strutted towards the elevators, she knew she would be in a better position if—

“—you even _knew_ where Bucky was!” Steve provided, appearing behind her with Dr. Banner on his heels.

At this point, she figured the Doc just wanted a little entertainment.

She cleared her throat and angrily pressed the up arrow of the elevator. Sure, she had no idea where Bucky was, but the facility wasn’t _that_ big. Unless he was outside. Then she was in real trouble. But considering she had only ever seen the man in the kitchen or when passing the training facilities, she would start there.

Well, she would have, had one of the most colorful Avengers not appeared, coasting through the walls as if they didn’t exist.

“Are you inquiring about Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers?” Vision asked, his British lilt so musical against their ears. “He was in training room number four as of five minutes ago.”

Darcy smirked and entered the elevator. As Steve squawked, she and Dr. Banner nearly left him behind. He snuck in before the doors closed. Then again, it wouldn’t have mattered much. Surely, he would have taken the stairs and _still_ beat her there.

When they got back to the main level of the compound, she wondered why Steve hadn’t just taken off and moved Bucky before she got to him. Instead, he followed her every movement, never once shutting up with his opinion on the matter.

“—human interaction is a lot for him, and I don’t think a biology lesson is the right course of action—”

Outside of the door, she turned on her heels and glared at him. “First of all, you’re with two doctors right now—”

“Neither of us are that type of doctor, Darcy—” Dr. Banner provided, unhelpfully.

She glared at Dr. Banner and looked back to Steve. “Besides the point! And showing him my tits is _not_ a biology lesson. It’s like when you use those little clappy thingies to give someone an electric shock after a heart attack. We’re reviving him.”

“You mean an automated external defibrillator?” Dr. Banner suggested, his eyebrow raised.

She put her hands on her hips. “Yes. That thingie.”

Steve pinched his nose. “And this dame is a doctor?”

Darcy narrowed her eyes. If she had any doubts, they were gone by Steve’s uncharacteristically callous behavior. “I have a doctorate in astrophysics. When you can help figure out the world’s anomalies Captain, let me know. Until then, don’t question my intelligence.”

He at least had the nerve to swallow, looking embarrassed. “Darcy, I didn’t mean—”

She turned on her heels and charged down the hallway, three training rooms away from number four and Bucky. But by the time she reached number three, Steve was back by her side.

“Darcy, please. He’s my best bud. I just… I don’t know if this is the best idea,” he pleaded. “He’s not the same! I mean… he used to love meat loaf. Now he won’t touch it!”

Darcy hadn’t been kept captive by Hydra, but somehow, she imagined whatever meat they fed him would too scar her for good.

She pushed open the door and strolled inside, immediately spotting Bucky in one of the corners. He was beating the shit out of a punching bag, and if the three decimated ones by his feet showed anything, it was that he had been there for a while.

As she walked towards him, Steve charged in.

“Darcy don’t do this!” he yelled, his voice more commanding than she had ever heard.

If she wasn’t so pissed at him, or looking at a sweaty Bucky, she may have found it hot.

But she couldn’t focus on that. Now when Steve’s words and tone seemed to catch Bucky’s attention. He turned to look in the direction of the door, Darcy a few steps ahead of an angry Steve and a thoroughly entertained Dr. Banner.

His blue eyes shifted from her focused look and what was surely Steve’s anger. It wasn’t like she could see since he was a few paces behind her. When Bucky looked back to her, he dropped into his fighting stance.

Great. Leave it to Steve to make his poor, formerly brainwashed best bud think she was there to attack him, not giving him a show of a lifetime.

Why was she even doing this?

Right. To prove a point.

And altruism, she guessed.

She had a good rack. She might as well help those in need.

“Darcy!” Steve warned one last time. “Stand down so we can talk about this.”

Stand down? Jesus, Cap here was acting like she was wielding a deadly weapon.

But maybe she was.

Because in two steps, she stood a foot away from Bucky. He eyed her wearily, his arms still up, ready for a fight. She could read his hesitance to fight her, which was good, all things considered.

It was there, with a jaded blue gaze on her, and two Avengers behind her—one pissed, one curious—that she lifted up her favorite sweater and bra, successfully flashing one of the most famous World War II vets and assassins in the world.

Bucky immediately dropped his gaze from her face to her chest and proceeded to just _stare_. It was that same unnerving stare from the kitchen. She had no idea if he was angry, excited, annoyed, or what. His arms hadn’t moved from their fighting stance, and besides his eyes locked on her tits, the only difference in his behavior she noticed was his locked jaw and the vein pulsing in his neck.

Now that she was actually doing it—showing one of the most dangerous men in the world her tits—she had no idea what her next steps were. How long did she stand with her shirt up? Did she try and talk to him? Did she wiggle around to catch his attention?

She was at a loss, and probably in minute two of flashing Bucky Barnes.

It was then she noticed Bucky’s labored breathing, the way his nostrils flared as his eyes jumped between her chest and her face.

“DARCY!” Steve barked from behind her, reminding her that she and Bucky weren’t alone.

Fine. She dropped her shirt and turned to face Steve, her eyes narrowed. But instead of Steve giving her another talking to, his eyes were glued Bucky, to who stood behind her. She turned again, but Bucky was gone.

“Where did he go?” she asked, a panicked quality in her voice.

Shit. What if Steve was right? What if her—by all accounts, _fantastic_ —tits were more harmful to his psyche then helpful?

She should probably start packing up her stuff.

“I don’t know.” Steve’s voice was filled with concern. He shook his head and charged towards the doors. “But stay away from him, Darcy. You should have listened to me. He was panicked and tense and _scared_ when he ran.”

Steve left the training room, leaving her and Dr. Banner. She met his gaze, her cheeks red with concern and mortification.

“I’m not that kind of doctor,” Dr. Banner began, giving her a chaste smile, “but I do believe what Steve is reading as fear was in fact desire.”

With that, Dr. Banner waved and exited, leaving her alone.

Maybe she was an idiot.

And with Asgard destroyed, it wasn’t even like she could beg Thor to take her as an asylum seeker.

But before she could return to the research level, or her living quarters to have a good panicked cry, Stark’s voice came on over the intercom.

“ _Hey Lewis_ ,” he said, “ _come on down to my office. We need to have a chat_.”

Great. Steve snitched on her, too.

With a fake resolve, she held her head up high and made her way to the principal’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part II coming soon
> 
> ps Steve isn't being a meanie. he's just worried about his best bud and i mean, who can blame him?
> 
> swoon


	2. the routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky comes back for seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excited to see such a great response to this story! it's good fun so please enjoy :)

It was bullshit. Total fucking bullshit. Here she was lending her body to… science… or… something… and fucking _Captain America_ was going to rain on her parade. Within the minutes it took her to cross the compound to arrive in Stark’s office, she had gone from nervous with a touch of hysterical mortification to pure _fury_.

By the time the glass doors to the office opened like a fucking twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart, Darcy was storming in with a heaving chest and clenched fists.

Stark didn’t even bother to look up from whatever doohickey he was fiddling with behind his desk.

“Well if it isn’t Jessica Rabbit herself. You know, if I recall my father’s stories, peep shows used to cost at least a nickel.”

She scowled and dropped into one of the chairs in front of Stark’s desk. “What do you want, Tony?”

“That’s Mr. Stark to you,” he explained, zapping whatever gadget he had in his hands with another fancy looking tech-tool, “and word on the street is, you showed off…” He finally looked away from his work to unashamedly look at her chest. “ _Your assets_ to _The Asset_.”

Darcy crossed her arms, both in frustration _and_ to cover her breasts. With or without Pepper, Stark was a flirt. “Did Captain Boy Scout tell on me?”

Stark was back to fiddling with his device, although her nickname for Steve did make him smirk. “Good one. I’ll have to write that down.” He zapped the device again. “However, Steve did not, as you so eloquently asked, _tell_ on you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So how do you know? Dr. Banner?”

“No, Lewis, _you_ told me.” Finally, he set the device down and met her gaze. “Remember when you stormed into my office weeks ago, begging me to have FRIDAY set up tech to detect nudity after your incident with Dr. Foster and Thor playing hide the eggplant in the research snack closet?”

She gagged in disgust. “Well, excuse me! I keep my Pop-Tarts there.”

He waved his hand. “Well, I figured it wasn’t a bad idea, so I programmed a new feature into FRIDAY for all communal areas. You were my first ping.”

“Great. You’re like fucking Tumblr, coming after female-presenting nipples.”

He smirked. “Lewis, you misunderstand me. You’re not in trouble.”

“Then why am I here?”

He held up a finger. “One, why were you showing one-armed John Wick your tits?” He held up another. “Two, how do I sign up for the same courtesy?”

When she simply glared, Stark held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, you’re a lady after my own heart. If Pepper wasn’t so perfect, I mean, _swoon_. Pissing Cap off _and_ busting out your tits in the name of aiding the Avengers? Legendary.”

How was this man her boss?

Like, what the fuck?

She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m glad you’re not mad at me. But to answer your questions—no, you cannot see my tits—and as for _why_ I showed Bucky, it was a theory, ok? Steve was bugging Dr. Banner to do some therapy sessions with Bucky—”

“Bad idea. He’s awful. Continue.”

Darcy glared. “Yes, well he turned Steve down. And Steve kept whining that he didn’t know what would get Bucky back to his old self and I… well… I joked that sex would help.”

Stark let out a stage gasp. “No. You didn’t.”

“I did.”

He threw his legs across his desk. “FRIDAY, is there footage of Lewis getting railed—”

“Hey!” she screeched. “I didn’t sleep with him!” When Stark gave a pouty face, she continued. “As I was _saying_ , Steve said Bucky wouldn’t be ready for something so intimate. And by the way, I didn’t offer myself up for sex!”

Stark returned to his normal sitting position. “Ahuh.”

She glared. “Basically, I joked about easing him into it by showing him some tits. Steve was being kind of…”

“A douche?”

“I was going to say like you.”

He grabbed his chest. “You wound me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Long story short, I got so pissed off about him not giving my idea the time of day that I went with it. Vision told us where Bucky was, and despite Steve’s pleading, I managed to give the guy a good look at—”

“Your assets, yes.” He grabbed a pen and began to fiddle with it. The dude had to have some type of undiagnosed attention disorder. He couldn’t sit still.

“Right. Anyways, can I leave now?”

Stark waved his hand. “Sure, sure. Just keep me up to speed. I love destroying Cap’s sensibilities and I certainly love a good pair of tits.”

Darcy glared. “Well, based on how Bucky left the training facility, I’d say me waking up dead is more likely than showing him my _assets_ again.”

“Darcy, Darcy, Darcy…” Stark tsked and shook his head. “Firstly, on a serious note, you’re safe here. No one will lay a hand on you. If I didn’t trust Cap to keep the snowflake soldier normal, he wouldn’t be here.” He set his pen down and grinned. “Second, Russian Kylo Ren would have to be literally _dead_ not to want to see your tits again. I haven’t even seen them and I want to see them again.”

She stood up. “Ok. That’s my cue. Thanks for the chat, Boss Man.”

He waved. “Always a pleasure. And don’t tell anyone about my sensors. I have a contract with PornHub. Any hanky panky ends up online for a hefty sale price of ten million.”

With that, she groaned and stormed out.

Honestly, who was that man?

Besides, ten million?

A sex tape of Thor and Jane could make more at the box office than like… every Pixar movie combined.

With a sigh, she returned to the research floor. Maybe she could attempt to finish her data entry before the day ended.

x

They looked so fucking _soft_. The perfect size to hold in his hands, his fucking metal arm be damned. The image of dusky pink nipples floated around in his head, his imagination desperate to picture what they would look like all taut and wanting under his ministrations.

The dame called Darcy was so fucking shapely, her body like an hourglass or the goddamn Coke bottles of his youth. She was like a pin-up girl from his dreams, with dark long hair and ruby red lips that haunted him every time he saw her—followed her, really—around the compound.

Bucky was fucking pathetic, and now this dame had given him his first stiffy since 1945.

He hadn’t had full control of his himself since that year, and when he was freed from his brainwashing in Wakanda only months ago, desire was the last thing on his mind. He was busy dealing with his internal reckoning about the blood on his hands and the seventy-plus years of life he had missed out on.

That all changed when this dame barged in on his training session and showed him her breasts, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

He didn’t know why she did it, or why Steve was begging her not to, or why Dr. Banner was standing behind the both of them, taking notes or something.

But the minute he saw porcelain skin, he didn’t care _who_ was there.

He had taken in his fill, until it became too much to just _look_ at her. He ran, ignoring his aching cock, all the way until he was back in his quarters.

He tried a cold shower, hoping the freeze would comfort him and get rid of the unwanted visitor.

It didn’t.

He laid in his bed, imagining the horrible things he had done, praying his cock would settle down.

It didn’t.

He pawed at his thick length until he chafed, desperate for it just to go away.

It did.

He ruined his sheets, the proof that he was still human covered his thighs and bed.

But the internal hunger wasn’t gone.

Something inside him _ached_.

He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing snow white skin and a set of breasts so beautiful they put Lana Turner and Betty Grable to shame.

Fuck him. He sat up in bed and squinted his eyes, taking in the darkness of his bedroom. After rushing back and battering his cock, he had done nothing but stare at the ceiling, trying _not_ to think about the dame called Darcy Lewis.

Bucky glanced at the electronic clock beside his bed, set in military time, an odd comfort for him.

_21:32_

He rubbed at his eyes. He needed to see her again. His blood was thrumming in his veins, there was no way he was going to fall asleep anytime soon, and his cock was already on the verge of waking up again. It was an awful decision, one influenced by lust and maybe a small desire to piss off Steve, but in moments he was out of bed and strolling out of his quarters.

Despite the supposed world-class security of the Avengers compound, nobody had name tags at their door for _safety_. Of course, plenty of people had identifiers—Clint’s room when he was in New York had a cartoon fox dressed as Robin Hood painted on the door, courtesy of Natasha, and the room Wanda and Vision shared had sparkly flowers forming some abstract design along the entirety of the entrance. Bucky should have felt shameful for knowing where Darcy’s room was but considering he had more or less been following her for the past week, that tidbit was probably the least of his concerns.

He was simply… observing her.

People did that, right?

Well, it didn’t matter if he was committing inappropriate behavior. He was already a brainwashed freak with a metal arm. Keeping his eyes on a pretty dame wouldn’t make him any worse.

Nor would it make him any better.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he was on the third level, standing in front of the same white door that led to every living quarters in the building. Darcy’s door had a little cartoon hammer on it—he assumed a nod to her friendship with Thor—as well as an array of stickers of cartoon dogs.

He was staring into the eyes of a Boston Terrier when he finally knocked on her door.

He knew the breed because Mrs. Haddock, the little old lady who was his neighbor for most of his childhood, had one. The dog was exceedingly friendly, with soft black and white fur that his sister used to go nuts for. His name was Duke, and when he died when Bucky was sixteen, he helped dig the grave.

From that moment forward, he always wanted one. At least he had, when he used to imagine a future after the war that included settling down with a pretty dame and a couple of kids and whatever the newest Cadillac model for sale was.

Bucky hadn’t thought about that in a long time.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to. Not more than ten seconds after he knocked, Darcy was opening her door, her long dark hair tied into a bun on the top of her head, wearing what looked like nothing but an over-sized t-shirt with a cat on it.

He stared at her legs until she spoke.

“Uh… Hi?” she said, using the greeting as more of a question. When he finally had the decency to look away from her legs and meet her gaze, she put her hands on her hips and stared him down. “Can I help you, Bucky?”

Now that he was standing in front of her, smelling strawberries and vanilla and seeing more pale skin, he couldn’t speak. He stared at her for what must have been another ten or so seconds, before he lost his internal control and dropped his gaze to her clothed chest. There was no way she was wearing a brassiere under the t-shirt. He remembered her shape and he was desperate to see them again.

Darcy cleared her throat. “You’re here to see my tits again.” This time, she wasn’t asking.

He finally looked away from her chest and back to her face. With a sigh, she returned into her apartment, the door remaining open in her wake. He continued to stand at her doorstep, unsure of what he was meant to do.

After a moment, Darcy peeked her head back around the door hinge. “Are you coming or what? I’m not flashing my tits in the hallways. Stark has cameras everywhere, and in case you haven’t noticed, Vision goes through walls.”

In a daze, he took one large step into her apartment, shutting the door behind him. As she cleaned up what appeared to be the remains of her dinner off the coffee table, he took a moment to look around. It was the exact same set-up as his own place, of course unlike the stark furnishing that had been provided upon move in—and had remained since it wasn’t like Bucky _had_ anything—her room was drenched in color. Lit candles bordered a fancy looking TV, and funky, colorful artwork hung from the walls. She had a big, emerald green sofa, covered in more pillows than he had ever seen. Hung across the arm of the couch was a chunky knit blanket, the same type he remembered his gram making him back in his youth.

It was a homey place, perhaps the most comfortable of any place in the compound he had been since his arrival.

He still stood in front of the door, just watching when Darcy reappeared before him.

She bunched the hem of her t-shirt in her hands, watching him curiously. God did that dame have some pretty fucking blue eyes. “You know,” she began, raising the t-shirt slowly up her smooth, pale stomach, “Stark claims peepshows used to cost _at least_ a nickel.”

Bucky wanted to clarify that the good ones could have been as expensive as a quarter, but it wasn’t like he could speak.

“Yet here I am doing it for free.” She had the shirt held right at her waist. With the shirt raised, the tiny pair of shorts she was wearing became visible, although the additional article of clothing did little to hide the skin of her legs.

He swallowed as the shirt was finally raised completely and he saw her gorgeous body once again. They were so fucking beautiful and luscious and _god_ , what Bucky would do to lick them, to stick his face in them, to stick his—

Wandering down that rabbit hole, even in the confines of his fantasy world, was not the right choice. Staring at her beautiful tits was the most he’d ever get—not that he even _deserved_ this much—so it was best if he appreciated what was in front of him.

And boy, did he. He stared and stared and _stared_ until his only memory post-Wakanda was a pair of perfect fucking tits and bright blue eyes.

And as soon as his aching cock became too much to handle, he met her gaze one last time. Then, he turned and bolted, her voice barely audible from her quarters as he ran down the hallway.

“ _You know, I think a thank you is in order_!”

x

What a fucking twenty-four hours. When Darcy began her morning that day, Pop-Tarts and coffee joining her at her desk, she expected a boring day of data entry, maybe a decent lunch with Jane, and if she was feeling up to it, attempting the spanakopita recipe her favorite food YouTuber had been raving about.

Overhearing Steve and Dr. Banner’s discussion, showing her tits to Bucky, and the subsequent encounter with Stark in his office was not a part of the plan.

But when she eventually made it back to her desk, she figured the madness was over. Hopefully Bucky wouldn’t choke her with that metal arm of his, and besides having to probably make good with Steve, she could pretend it never happened.

She even made the spanakopita, despite her exhaustion.

Little did she know that Bucky fucking Barnes would show up at her door a little before ten.

He just… stared at her.

Her legs, then her face, and then her tits.

The dude had no decorum. It must have been all the Hydra brain frying since Steve, his bosom buddy from the same era, _oozed_ propriety, politeness, and chivalry.

His silence was frustrating, but not nearly as frustrating as her internal excitement from his visit. There was something so… exhilarating about dark blue eyes on every inch of her body.

It was flattering.

She felt…

Well, she felt wanted.

Needed.

And aside from being Jane’s assistant and the few times she volunteered to cat-sit for Wanda, she didn’t always feel that way.

Darcy showed Bucky her tits again, no questions asked. And when he eventually got his fill and disappeared, it stung a little bit.

She should have felt used. She should have felt like a faceless fantasy for him.

But she didn’t.

For the first time in a long time, she pulled out her favorite vibrator and gave herself a little present before falling asleep.

The next morning, over a steaming hot cup of coffee, Darcy decided to put the previous day behind her. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her during her argument with Steve and subsequent flashing of Bucky, and she especially didn’t know why she did it again.

For a nanosecond, she toyed with the thought of going back to Steve to rub it in his stupid handsome face that Bucky showed up at her doorstep for another round, but she ultimately decided against it. She didn’t want to potentially embarrass Bucky, but mostly, she didn’t want to talk to Steve’s stupid face until he apologized.

She managed to keep busy, too. She ignored Dr. Banner’s amused expression as she assisted him with an experiment he was running in the morning. She practically force-fed Jane by mid-afternoon, knowing her boss/mentor/best friend wouldn’t eat without her involvement. She even bookmarked a couple of new recipes she wanted to try.

Then, during a mid-afternoon lull, she baked a batch of chocolate chip muffins in the communal kitchen…

…which promptly disappeared when she returned fifteen minutes later to grab one for Jane.

The continued theft of her baked goods was aggravating, but at least acted as a distraction from the tits situation going well… tits up.

By nightfall, she was ready to have an entirely normal day. In fact, by eleven that evening, as she settled onto the couch to watch one last episode of some Netflix baking show, she was convinced _Titmageddon_ was behind her.

Round one of the competition was over and a terrible banana split themed cupcake got a team eliminated when there was a knock at her door.

Darcy froze and stared at the TV screen, barely paying attention to the remaining three teams and the confections they were working on.

Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be… entirely out of the realm of possibility to assume Jane was outside of her door, requiring her assistance. But with Thor back from space, she knew her boss was spending her evening getting railed, not elbow deep in research.

Ugh, gross. _Railed_. She sounded like Stark.

She quickly paused her show and rushed to the door, cognizant of the oversized sweatshirt and leggings she wore. With Jane out of the picture, unless Stark was being extremely gross, she only had one candidate in mind but…

That would be ridiculous.

Insane.

She opened her door and swallowed when she met a familiar, icy blue gaze.

His stare was intense, a borderline glare if she were honest, like he was irritated by her presence. But that wasn’t to say he looked angry. Because he didn’t.

He looked edgy.

Thor, what had she gotten herself into?

“Uh… It’s a bit late, you know?” she began, gnawing on her lip as she stared at Bucky. He took up the entirety of her door frame, all wide and thick muscled in a pair of black sweatpants and a black t-shirt. “Like… I could have been sleeping.”

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t say anything, and continued to stare at her.

She sighed.

“Right. Ok.” She walked back into her place and plopped on the couch, grabbing the bag of chocolate covered pretzels she had been eating. She resumed her show, not paying the mute super-soldier any attention.

Until he silently managed to appear before her, blocking the entirety of her view of the TV.

“Crap!” she cried, nearly jumping off of the couch. “For a big dude, you’re really fucking quiet when you move.” She sighed and paused the show again. This time, instead of her tits, Bucky was staring at her snack. She grabbed the bag and held it out. “Chocolate covered pretzels. Try one.”

With that icy blue gaze on her, he hesitantly reached his flesh hand into the bag and retrieved a pretzel. Darcy watched as he chewed, eyes on her, no outward emotion.

Well, at the rate they were going, if she wanted to finish her episode and get to bed at a normal hour, they’d need to get this show on the road.

“I imagine you didn’t come to watch Neflix with me?” He continued to stare, but to her surprise, ate another pretzel. She stood up. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you’d talk to me. Come on, I’m definitely cuter than Sam and Rhodey and you talk to them.”

This time, his eyes dropped to her chest.

“Ahuh. Fine.”

Under his watchful gaze, she pulled her sweatshirt and equally as cozy sports bra off, until she stood before him in nothing but her leggings. Blue eyes unabashedly locked on her chest, pretzel bag still in his hand but his eating paused.

“I think paying me in any manner would probably be borderline prostitution, but I would gladly accept seeing you shirtless, you know?”

To her surprise, her moody subject had a reaction she had never seen before.

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes still set on her chest.

She rubbed her legs together, hating how stupidly hot he was and how frustratingly on edge _Titmageddon_ was making her.

It must have been about thirty seconds of her watching him watch her, but as the seconds ticked on, the devil on her shoulder encouraged her to drop her gaze. Her eyes slid down his taut stomach, hidden beneath black cotton, until they landed on his lower half.

The black made it difficult to see, but she knew an erection when she saw one.

“ _Oh_.”

She hadn’t meant to say anything. Her eyes shot back to his. He tensed, clearly realizing what _she_ had just realized. By the time she managed to even _blink_ , he was gone.

Even took her pretzels, too.

With a sigh, she dropped to the couch and pressed play.

Darcy was starting to feel like she was in _way_ over her head.

The next morning, Darcy was convinced after noticing Bucky’s reaction, he wouldn’t dare show his face. She wasn’t the greatest of body language readers, but she could tell he didn’t like showing up at her door, as if getting to see her tits for free was _such_ a burden.

But, all things considered, knowing she gave a super-soldier, war-hero, insane assassin, and Avenger an erection was probably a highlight of her life.

In Stark’s words, it was _legendary_.

And by nightfall, she knew tonight would break the trend.

Her gut was never wrong.

Until it was.

This time, too lazy to stand for his maximum viewing pleasure, she stayed on the couch and watched her baking show, top off while Bucky stood in the corner. Since she wasn’t paying much attention to him, she didn’t time his visit.

But she was pretty sure he stayed for all forty-five minutes of the program.

She’d never know if it was her tits or the cupcakes that got him to stick around.

On night four of “ _Darcy shows a super-soldier assassin her tits because she got obnoxiously defensive about a silly suggestion to Captain America and now his mute bosom buddy won’t stop showing up at her door_ ”, she was too lazy to tie her hair up. For the first time, her strands fell against her chest, reminding her just how disgustingly pale she was.

She wasn’t certain why, but this time, the super-soldier was in and out of her place nearly a minute after seeing her tits.

He was probably scrutinizing her split ends as much as she was.

On night five, Jane called in the middle of her tits-out for Bucky. He stared at her and her twins for the entirety of the eight-minute conversation of her trying to walk her best friend through how to properly make lasagna.

Apparently, Thor was so taken with little Peter Parker’s Aunt’s version, he wanted it again. And god bless Janey, but she had _no_ idea how to make pasta, let alone a layered dish like lasagna.

By the time she was talking about mixing some egg with the ricotta, Bucky was taking some crazy-ass deep breaths. She wondered if he was about to go all Winter Soldier on her ass and choke her with that metal arm.

Instead, by the time she was explaining how to work an oven to Jane, he had _both_ hands in his hair.

When she suggested Jane sprinkle the dish with some parmesan cheese, he let out a feral snarl and bolted out of her place.

It was only at his departure, and ending her call with Jane, that she realized in her mindless recipe instruction, she had been fondling her breast with her free hand.

What could she say?

Sometimes it was nice to just…

Hold the girls.

Night six was normal. Well, as far as her entire ridiculous life could be. Bucky showed up around midnight—perhaps as annoying as his silence was the massive window each evening that he showed up during—and she once again watched TV while he stared at her.

She didn’t remember much else because midway through her program, she fell asleep on her couch.

When she woke up a few hours later, the TV was off, the super-soldier was gone, and her favorite cable-knit blanket had been placed over her.

Ugh, she was starting to think he was hot _and_ cute.

Contrary to what Jane believed, those were two _very_ different things.

The week mark was when things… escalated.

It had been a rough and busy day for her. Jane was incredibly reticent and moody—her defacto response whenever Thor left Earth to do whatever—and while Darcy was usually good at handling her boss/mentor/best friend, it was too much for her. With her own projects, helping Dr. Banner with his research, assisting Jane’s research _and_ practically taking care of her, coupled with Netflix raising their monthly cost _again_ and someone _still_ stealing her baked goods, she was exhausted.

With how hectic her job was, Bucky didn’t even cross her mind that day. Not when she ate a gross amount of fast food or took a nearly thirty-minute bath/shower combination or spent a ridiculous amount of time slathering lotion on her towel-clad body.

Darcy had _always_ been a huge proponent of self-care. That’s why her evening was meant to be the three Bs: burgers, bath bombs, and buzz.

She made it through the first two—and the last one would come when she finally laid down to sleep, her favorite vibrator ready to go—when there was a knock at her door.

Despite not thinking about him at all that day, she wasn’t surprised to see him. He, however, seemed surprised to see her.

But then again, maybe that was because she was clad in only yellow terrycloth.

In retrospect, for someone with her degrees, she should have realized dropping said towel would give him more of an eyeful than usual, but, hey.

Nobody said she was the top of her class.

Dropping her towel got a new Bucky reaction, when his eyes skirted from her wet hair down to her ruby red toes. This time, his mouth parted into a tiny o, lasting for about two seconds before he reverted back to his usual masked emotions.

Great. _Titmageddon_ was becoming _Pussypocalypse._

Bucky didn’t seem to know how to react. His eyes played a humorous game, jumping from her tits to her pussy, taking in the smooth skin and the remaining strip of neat curls she left at her lower half.

She wondered the last time he had seen a naked woman.

Her eyes locked onto the Adam’s apple in his throat, bobbing wildly with every deep swallow he took.

Disappointingly, he was wearing jeans this time—she was always hoping for grey sweatpants—but his erection was hard to miss. And this time, when he noticed that _she_ had noticed, he didn’t run.

He just _stared_.

His blue stare was like a livewire, testing her every ounce of self-control not to rub her legs together to relieve some tension. She barely knew him—he hadn’t yet to even say a word to her—and she was more than happy with the idea of forcing him onto the couch and riding his body like a surfboard.

She groaned and grabbed her towel. Then, for the first time since the training room, she was the one to end their little game.

She needed her buzz and _stat_.

Even as she walked Bucky to her door, her towel back around her body, he didn’t take his eyes off of her. Not when she pushed him through the doorway, and not when the door slammed in his face.

It wasn’t a surprise when her buzz time was spent imagining blue eyes and thick muscles.

From that point forward, her…

_Science experiment?_

_Altruistic charity?_

_Loneliness-induced terrible life choice?_

…followed a routine.

Bucky showed up at her doorstep every evening, usually between the hours of nine and twelve. After the towel incident, what had just been flashing her tits turned into one hundred percent nudity one hundred percent of the time. Usually during his visits, she stood on the plush rug in her living room, hands on her hips as she watched him watch her.

It was never anything more and never anything less.

Sometimes, he stayed for mere minutes before bolting. Other times, she got through two episodes of her baking shows before he finally, _silently_ , disappeared into the night.

Outside of their evenings, she didn’t see Bucky frequently. Given that ninety-five percent of her time at the compound was spent in her quarters or on the research level, they didn’t have many places their lives could overlap. A handful of times she spotted him in the gym during her runs on the treadmill, and on a few more occasions, she spotted him in the kitchen.

In these moments, he continued his staring, although she swore his smoldering intensity was replaced with bashfully red cheeks.

Again, cute _and_ hot.

Since that fateful day in the compound, nearly three weeks ago, Bucky hadn’t missed an evening.

On night twenty, Darcy sat on her sofa, barely paying attention to her baking show. It was twelve-fifteen at night, and Bucky hadn’t shown up. It was fifteen minutes after what she usually considered his cut-off time, and his absence had her on edge.

She briefly recalled overhearing Stark talking to Dr. Banner about Steve, Sam, and Natasha taking care of something in Colombia, but she hadn’t heard Bucky’s name so…

Well, she assumed he was still at the compound.

_12:20_

Maybe he wasn’t.

She sighed and sprawled across the sofa.

What was wrong with her?

The truth was, after they escalated from just tits to tits Et al., she had gotten into her own _routine_.

It was, as followed:

  1. Anxiously await Bucky’s arrival.
  2. Get naked for Bucky and stare at him while he stared at her.
  3. Drain the life out of her vibrator while she imagined sapphire eyes and a metal arm pining her down.



Now her routine was all messed up, and worse of all, she was _worried_ about him.

Was he in Colombia? Was he hurt?

Or…

What if he wasn’t?

What if he…

What if he was over their little game? What if her body didn’t do it for him anymore?

What if someone introduced him to _internet porn_?!

She groaned and buried her face in a pillow. There was no one to blame for this salacious nightmare beside her own big mouth. Steve had warned her against it.

Of course, his hesitation had a lot more to do with him being a prude with a capital p, and not because his best bud might show up at her doorstep every night.

Except that night.

_1:03_

Darcy wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t muster enough energy to get off the couch. Instead, she stared at the ceiling, bemoaning her stupid life and the stupid Avengers and her stupidly perfect tits.

_1:31_

It was probably best she couldn’t get herself to move. If she could, she might have drowned her sorrows in frozen pizza or Oreos so…

This was a safer bet.

_2:11_

She needed to be awake in six hours. It was time to accept he wasn’t coming, either because he couldn’t or he simply didn’t _want_ to.

Despite her self-pity, she somehow got herself into bed, a plush dog in her arms. If no man would cuddle her, Spot was a good enough substitution.

_3:02_

The brutal knocking woke her up. She stumbled out of bed on unsteady knees, worried about what was on the other side of the door. The late wakeup call had her stomach in knots, leading her to wonder if someone was here to alert her that aliens were back in New York or someone was dead or her favorite coffee shop had closed.

With a deep breath, she opened the door and met her favorite pair of piercing blue eyes.

Bucky looked _wrecked_.

His hair was a mess, with bits of ash and debris at the tips—thank heavens he was no longer sporting the long hair she recalled seeing photos of—and his face was in similar shape, with dirt across his cheeks, cuts littering his chin, and a blackened right eye as if someone had punched him a few times.

He wore a leather jacket, one side sleeveless to accommodate his metal arm, and a pair of black tactical pants and boots. Similarly, his attire was covered in ash and soot, not to mention ripped in a variety of places.

Darcy swallowed and tugged her robe closer, looking him up and down.

She couldn’t begin to explain the relief she felt from seeing him. Not only to confirm that he was okay, but that he still wanted to see her.

“You went with Cap to Colombia?” she asked, her voice small, as she stared at a particularly nasty cut across his left cheek and down to his chin.

To her surprise, he _nodded_.

Bucky had never communicated with her. Obviously, he had never said anything, but he had also never non-verbally indicated anything outside of wherever his gaze went.

That tiny head movement had her stomach filling with butterflies. She reached forward and grabbed his flesh hand, dragging him inside and shutting the door after him. She pushed him to the couch, uncaring that his filthy attire would probably stain the surface. When he sat down and looked at her, she went to her tiny kitchenette and returned to him with water and a bag of chocolate covered pretzels, since he really seemed to like those from before.

He stared at her as she set the food beside him, before sitting across from him. While he drank the water—emptied the bottle, really—she couldn’t help but obsess about his appearance.

She…

Well, to be realistic, she barely knew the guy, and she was beyond concerned about his safety. Sure, she was always concerned when the Avengers left, since many of them were her friends. But this…

It was different.

She had no idea how Janey did it. The thought of her boss/mentor/best friend constantly sending Thor into the perils of outer space must be devastating.

Darcy would be better about tolerating Jane’s post-Thor-departure moods in the future.

When the water bottle was legitimately empty, he set it beside him and just stared at her, the soft rise and fall of his chest oddly soothing. She could see in his eyes how exhausted he was. Part of her wondered why he even showed up, especially at such an inconvenient time and after what was clearly a stressful mission.

But Darcy had begun to rely on his visits to add to her spank bank, and feel wanted, and quell her loneliness, and—

Well, he was probably in the same boat.

Or he just really liked her tits.

That too.

She quickly undressed until she was fully nude, still sitting on the couch.

It was the first time since the escalation to panties off that she wasn’t standing.

His dark, tired gaze was doing things to her. Her stress was doing things to her. Not using Buzz that night was doing things to her.

In the future, she’d wonder if her movements were subconscious, or a calculated decision. But in that moment, she simply acted.

Her legs fell apart on the sofa, exposing her most private region to the air and well, Bucky.

She probably could have attributed the shivers that went down her spine to the feeling of cool air against heated flesh, but she knew it was dark eyes dropping to her pussy. His eyes darted from her pink skin back to her face. With his gaze on hers, she slid her hand down her stomach until it landed where she needed it most.

His sharp intake of breath was the most delicious, the most _explicit_ thing she had ever heard.

Darcy was so pent up over his absence, so worked up about life in general, so geared up after _weeks_ of their little game…

Her fingers on her cunt had her legs shaking.

One hand played with her clit, rubbing the engorged nub in the small little circles she preferred, while her other hand cupped her left breast. Her head fell back, her eyes closed as she continued to touch herself. After a few moments, she abandoned her clit and used her fingers to rub the moisture from her cunt through her sensitive lower lips.

The sound of Bucky’s panting filled the space and drew her attention back to him. She opened her eyes, taking in the way his stomach seemed to quiver beneath his leather jacket, the way his fists were gripping his thighs as if to prevent himself from touching something, the way the evidence of his excitement was clear even in those dark, tactical pants…

Dilated eyes met hers, the blue practically swallowed by his pupils. His gaze slid down the expanse of her body, jumping between her hand at her chest and her pussy until settling on the movements of her hand at her clit. He let out a pained noise from low in his throat, like a wounded animal dying on the side of the road.

She was probably going to hell for this.

With slick fingers, she pressed one into her pussy, her eyes laser focused on _his_ laser focus. He continued to grip his thighs, trying his best to remain still on the couch. As she slowly moved her finger, she spotted the tear in his tactical pants, where his poor metal hand had clenched the material so hard it tattered.

Fuck, he was hot. She pressed another finger inside and really began to fuck herself, unable to look away from Bucky. His nostrils flared and his mouth parted as he watched, especially when she brought her other hand to the party to rub at her clit.

It was torture, really, to be staring at him, knowing such a gorgeous guy was attracted to her and most definitely packing, but being scared shitless about doing anything. If she touched his thigh, would he flinch and leave?

She mocked Steve’s reaction to her initial idea, but he warned about Bucky and intimacy. Touching. What if watching was one thing, but touching was another?

Her hand would have to do. For the first time in her life, she shoved a third finger inside, dreaming of his thick fingers instead. Flesh _or_ metal. She was staring at them, watching as they ripped his pants and pressed nail-shaped indents into the skin of his thighs.

Darcy threw her head back again. It was too much. _He_ was too much.

With a cry, the orgasm tore through her, reducing her to a trembling mess on the sofa. She continued to slowly fuck herself on her hand, treating the slippery activity as a cool down, like her time on the treadmill.

When she finally stopped her ministrations and gently removed her hand, she met Bucky’s gaze. He was still— _shocker_ —staring at her, his eyes dark, his form far more wrecked than the one that appeared at her door earlier.

Darcy swallowed and stared back, her mind in a post-orgasmic haze. She outstretched her arm, her fingers pointing towards her bedroom. “I’m going to clean—”

Her words promptly died in her throat. Like a fucking predator, Bucky pounced, his metal hand wrapping around her wrist. She watched, eyes wide, as he drew one of her fingers into his mouth.

As in, one of the fingers she had just fucked herself with.

He shut his eyes and wrapped his lips around the digit, licking it clean of whatever of her essence remained. She was unable to do anything but watch, especially when he pulled the first finger out, and quickly replaced it with a second.

It was probably what she looked like when she ate her favorite raspberry cheesecake.

Bucky was licking her fingers like it was fucking _raspberry cheesecake_.

Finger two was promptly cleaned and replaced with finger three. His tongue wiggled along every indent of the digit, making her whimper as she watched him.

When he finished finger three, he opened his eyes and gently dropped her arm onto the couch, letting go of her wrist. She swallowed and stared as he stood up, his eyes once again exploring her body, from her messy bun down to those ruby red toes.

Then, he let out a grunt and disappeared.

Even took the chocolate covered pretzels she gave him, too.

Darcy threw herself back against the sofa and moaned. With his saliva still wet on her fingers, she went back to rubbing her clit.

Oh, she had a problem alright.

She was pretty sure Bucky did, too.

She had no idea what their _routine_ looked like moving forward, but she was definitely looking forward to tomorrow night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit - just wanted to clarify that tony's software is there to spot nudity in communal places, to which people will be penalized bc like sure, the thought of thor and jane having sex in a snack closet is fun, maybe we don't bodily fluids on our poptarts, ya know? so it exists to catch people and tell them no. darcy gets pinged bc she's nude in a public place, but she's not in trouble bc tony thinks it's hilarious. because it is.
> 
> on a similar note, obvs he's kidding about porn hub
> 
> i mean
> 
> 10 mil?
> 
> tony is a better business man than that
> 
> this may end up being 4 chapters l o l
> 
> also, i have 0 idea how much peep shows cost in the 40s
> 
> anyways thanks for reading and let me know what you think :)


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